


The Wonder Amy Partnership

by April in Paris (April_in_Paris)



Series: The Wonder Amy Chronicles [3]
Category: Shamy - Fandom, The Big Bang Theory (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, F/M, Romance, Snidely Whiplash - Freeform, Superheroes, Suspense, Trains, Wonder Amy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-01 18:14:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13300482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/April_in_Paris/pseuds/April%20in%20Paris
Summary: Sheldon and Dr. Fowler are enjoying a romantic weekend away in Sacramento when they stumble upon a fiendish plot unfolding at the California Railroad Museum. Will Wonder Amy be able to keep Sheldon out of harm's way? Will Sheldon let her? A postlude to The Wonder Amy Paradox.(Note: There is some mild comicbook-like violence, but nothing graphic.)Published simultaneously on fanfiction.net.





	1. Chapter 1

 

"I just feel underdressed," Amy said, using a hand to tug down on the opposite sleeve of her cardigan, even though there was no risk of her bracelets being seen. "I swear, Sheldon, the information only said black tie optional."

In response, Sheldon surveyed the room. It was true that most of the women were in longer gowns with flashier jewelry. "But none of them flash as bright as you," he whispered.

"What?" Amy asked.

He turned back to her, her bright green eyes framed by her glasses, her hair straight and falling on her shoulders. "None of these women, no matter what they're wearing, are Dr. Fowler. Remember that."

Amy smiled at him, at first softly and then it stretched into a grin. "I _am_ pretty spectacular, aren't I?"

"If only all these mere mortals knew." Sheldon put out his elbow. "Come on, we came to see the new exhibits, let's go see them. One doesn't need a tuxedo to enjoy locomotives."

With a chuckle, Amy took his arm and they made their way through the milling crowd to look at the first display. Sheldon allowed himself to wonder if she'd not mentioned the optional black tie information previously because she wanted to be here with him as Dr. Fowler. She had a formal dress - a slinky sapphire blue number that was cut low in the back to reveal the shining armor beneath; she looked devastating in it when she'd gone to the Wayne Enterprises Superhero Gala a few months ago.

When an invitation to the Gala had arrived addressed to Dr. Fowler and Dr. Cooper, in appreciation for their roles in scientific breakthroughs aiding the metahuman community, Sheldon and Amy had many discussions about how to handle it. After all, Wonder Amy had her own invitation, too. Never one for parties, Sheldon would have been content to stay home, but Amy wanted to go and he probably would get to meet The Flash. It was decided that they would travel and arrive separately: Amy as Wonder Amy, and Sheldon without Dr. Fowler, using the excuse she was staying at home with their new baby, while in reality their son was with their downstairs neighbor, Mrs. Petrescu. Amy had looked stunning, her demigoddess body having quickly rebounded from pregnancy and childbirth. Yes, her bosom heaved a bit more than usual over the top of her armor, but it seemed unlikely anyone would mind.

At first Sheldon enjoyed the evening, meeting Dr. Banner and other scientists, but it was hard to watch Wonder Amy dazzling alone. Their eyes kept meeting and then Wonder Amy cut through the crowd, that blue dress like a knife through butter, and asked him to dance. He played his role well and danced, holding her at a distance, as a mere acquaintance. This was the life he'd gladly accepted: to be Dr. Fowler's husband but Wonder Amy's secret. But sometimes the distance cut, too.

After watching her dance a few more songs with others, Sheldon had left early only to find Amy had beat him home in that way she had. Mrs. Petrescu was gone, and Amy was sitting in the rocking chair in the corner of their bedroom, her armor removed and Hector at her breast. Her hair was still curled, and it framed her face as she sang a soft lullaby.

"You left?" Sheldon asked. "Why? I thought this was your triumphant return to the spotlight after months away."

"I could tell you weren't enjoying yourself anymore," Amy said. "And none of my dancing partners were nearly as good as you."

Sheldon smiled at her and sat of the edge of the bed, close enough their knees were touching. It was, in retrospect, the moment he decided they really needed to find a new place to live. "I knew I couldn't always be your partner when I asked you to be mine," he said.

Amy leaned forward and rested her hand upon his knee. "But I want you to be my partner when it really matters. I will save the world alone, Sheldon, but I want you by my side for everything else. Including date nights and dances."

So, tonight, here in the new train museum, she was wearing a simple floral dress with one of her cardigans over the top and her plain beige heels, her typical date night choice.

Very soon, their attire was forgotten as they fell easily into conversion, no doubt aided by the camaraderie of their shared secret. They discussed the photographs, placards, and various historical items on display, Sheldon volunteering the plethora of information he found lacking. Amy relaxed back into her usual confident self, only broken by a flash of worry when her phone vibrated. She scrambled in her purse for it and then let out a breath when she saw the screen. "Unknown," she explained.

"I'm sure he's fine," Sheldon said softly, squeezing her hand.

"You're right. I'm ruining your birthday."

"No, you're not. I'm out with just my Amy and at a train museum. It doesn't get any better than that."

Blushing, Amy smiled and dipped her head before looking away.

This was the first time they'd been away from their son for an extended period of time. Sure, he'd been babysat before, and not just for galas, but never overnight and certainly not for a whole weekend. In celebration of Sheldon's birthday, Amy had arranged a weekend in Sacramento, riding Amtrak north and then staying in the historic district. The California Railroad Museum had just completed its remodel and expansion, and Amy had even gotten them tickets to the preview event of the new building in the former Union Pacific Railyards. The railyard building was within walking distance of both the museum and the Sacramento Valley Amtrak station, but there was a beautifully restored steam locomotive that took visitors between it and the primary building as part of a scenic loop along the river.

Trying to be discreet, Sheldon watched Amy as she read the placard for the next display. Other than her occasional worries about Hector or the rare remnant of her former Dr.-Fowler-hesitations, they'd had a wonderful two days, both yesterday on the Costal Starlight train northbound and today in Sacramento. Not even one of her normal impromptu absences had occurred; he realized, suddenly, that she'd probably ignored the mysterious calls for her help in order to stay by his side. Just as she'd chosen not to bring the blue evening dress. Just as they'd taken the train and not her invisible jet, which, while much faster, terrified him.

Overcome with this knowledge, he leaned over and brushed his lips upon her cheek. Amy turned to look at him in surprise, as he was so rarely in favor of public displays of affection.

"Thank you," he said. "I just realized you haven't, um, well, . . ." He cleared his throat and twirled his index finger in the air. "If you know what I mean."

He was rewarded with one of Amy's mischievous smiles and she repeated the same action with her own index finger. "Maybe I'm saving all my tricks for later."

Sheldon's eyebrow went up in pleasure, but, before he could answer, he heard Amy's stomach growl. "You need food." It was a simple statement of fact and she nodded in reply.

Even forty-eight hours of calm did not decrease Amy's massive caloric needs; her metabolism burned constantly. Traveling could be hard, between the surprised looks of waiters when she ordered multiple meals and the expense. They made their way out of the exhibit proper, back into the lobby space which was set up with a buffet and a . . . "What is that?" Sheldon asked.

There, at one end of the buffet table, was what appeared to be a large garden fountain, easily as tall as Sheldon, but it was flowing not with water but instead with some kind of translucent amber liquid.

"Why, it's a maple syrup fountain, my friends!" Sheldon instinctively took a step back from the thin man who had leaned in too close for comfort.

"Maple syrup? What does that have to do with trains?" Amy asked as Sheldon studied the stranger. He appeared to have taken the black tie optional bit to heart, as he was wearing not only a full tuxedo, but also a black cape and top hot. His hair was also coal black, matching the ensemble perfectly, and he even wore a thin handlebar mustache that curled up at the ends. He was the embodiment of the word ridiculous, Sheldon thought.

"We're bringing real Canadian maple syrup to the masses!" he boomed, swooping his arm in a half-circle, the other resting on a silver-topped walking stick. "None of your watery American stuff here. We're celebrating the expansion of Whiplash Industries to California, and we're bringing our Canadian maple syrup via specially designed train cars to maintain the proper temperature and consistency." Then he bowed deeply from the waist, pulling his cloak around him in a theatrical flourish with one hand and tipping his top hat with the other. "Snidely Whiplash himself, at your service."

"What an unusual name," Amy murmured. Then, louder, "Well, I'm sure it's an excellent product and congratulations on your expansion, but I'm really hungry -"

"Hungry? Hungry! Well, you are speaking the right man!" Snidely trotted the two steps closer to the end of the buffet and picked up something rectangular and light brown. "We have French toast sticks! And waffle sticks! And pancake pops! Just dip them right into the maple syrup fountain and eat your fill of our Canadian goodness! It's wholesomeness will warm you for days."

Sheldon looked around and noticed how many people were doing just that. Everyone in the room seemed to be carrying a stick of breakfast pastry dripping with syrup in one hand while using the other to wipe at their mouths. Or even, he noticed with growing alarm, licking their fingers. He swiveled his head as someone approached the fountain and placed their half-eaten waffle stick back into it. Sheldon's stomach flopped in disgust.

"No, thank you!" he said, placing a hand on the small of Amy's back to steer her away.

"But you haven't even tried it! You simply must! I insist!"

Pressing harder on Amy as she took his hint and stepped away, Sheldon called behind them, "If Mrs. Butterworth's was good enough for my Meemaw, then it's good enough for me!"

"Sheldon, what was that about?" Amy asked as they reached the opposite end of the buffet.

"Look around," Sheldon instructed. He picked up a white plate and handed it to Amy. "There's perfectly good utensils right here." To prove his point, he picked up a fork and brandished it at her. "Everyone is eating all that finger food like animals. And double dipping!"

Amy curled her hand over his and took the fork from him. "You're getting a little worked up, don't you think?"

Before he could answer, Snidely stepped up next to them again, holding a dripping pancake pop in each hand. "I insist! Try it! You must!"

"No, thank you. I was thinking this quiche looked wonderful and I could really use the protein," Amy said, smiling and reaching for the pie server next to the quiche in question.

"You don't know what you're missing!" Snidely said, taking another step closer, and Sheldon thought his tone was sounding more menacing by the second. And his thinness was starting to feel disturbing; he was gaunt to the point that he looked unhealthy, and his skin had a faint sickly bluish cast to it. "Everyone else is eating it and look how happy they are."

Indeed, Sheldon noticed that everyone _was_ eating the maple syrup, even more than a few minutes ago. And multiple people were double dipping now, some people putting two or even three items in the fountain at a time. Cheeks were puffed out like chipmunks, crumbs fell from overstuffed mouths, and everyone seemed oblivious to the mess they were making on their hands and even on their fancy evening wear. The exhibits appeared empty as the line for the maple syrup fountain grew before Sheldon's eyes.

He leaned close to his wife to whisper, "Amy, I have a bad feeling about -"

"Eat it!" Snidely pressed closer to Amy, baring his teeth now, pushing a pancake pop close to her mouth. Sheldon started to warn him but then pressed his lips together when he decided he'd prefer to see Snidely's unprepared reaction.

Amy reached up and grasped the pancake pop, crushing it until it fell in sticky crumbles to the floor. Then, after putting down her plate of quiche, she grabbed Snidely's bony pale hand in hers, wrapping her palm around his fist and squeezing. "We. Said. We. Don't. Want. Any. Maple. Syrup," she growled.

Snidely Whiplash's eyes popped which only made them look even more sunken than they had, but his Adam's apple bobbed with a large gulp that Sheldon assumed was his way of swallowing away the pain.

"Did I make myself clear?" Amy continued, her teeth clenched together.

"Yes," Snidely whimpered and Amy let him go. He took off backwards, almost tripping in his rush to turn around.

With a flip of her hair, Amy turned to Sheldon. "I have a bad feeling, too. I love breakfast for dinner as much as the next gal, but that was extreme. Let's get out of here. We'll find somewhere else to eat."

"Yes, let - Look!" Sheldon pointed to her hand, where a small pool of maple syrup about the size of a dime was moving up the back of her hand toward her wrist. Up as in against the normal force of gravity.

Lifting her hand, Amy looked down at the splotch that was breaking the laws of physics. "Correction. I have a _really_ bad feeling about this."

Then there was a loud ruckus from near the door and they both turned to watch the crowd around the maple syrup fountain. There wasn't a line anymore; rather, it was turning into a feeding frenzy, people pushing and shoving, trying to climb over each other to get closer. Sheldon gasped when one man punched another.

"What is in that stuff?" Sheldon asked, turning back to look at Amy's hand. The self-moving blob of syrup was almost to her wrist now. "Hurry! Wipe it off!"

He reached for some napkins and together they wiped it away, searching elsewhere on her skin and her clothes for any more drips. "But it's on the floor," Sheldon said, looking down to see lines of maple syrups crawling toward their feet. They shuffled several steps back together.

Amy brought the napkin up to peer closer at it, lifting her glasses to take advantage of her natural focal point, squinting at the still-moving stain. "I can't tell. It looks like regular maple syrup, even though it can't be." She sighed. "Where's Superman with his X-ray vision when you need him?"

"Nanobytes!" Sheldon hissed with a snap of his fingers. "They would have both the programming and microscopic size needed to infect the syrup. But where did they come from? And why?"

There was a shattering sound, and they looked up together to see the maple syrup fountain topple from the force of everyone crawling all over it, sending the sweet liquid flowing all over the floor and squirting out of disconnected hoses. Almost everyone feel to their knees, running their hands through it, bringing their sticky palms up to their mouths to greedily wash them clean with their tongues.

"Nyahaahaaa!" Snidely let loose a nasal, high-pitched, and pure evil laugh that made Sheldon's skin crawl even more than the idea of licking nanobyte-infested maple syrup off the bare floor. "It's working! The world will be mine! Nyahaahaa!" Snidely looked as though it was all he could do to avoid twirling the curled ends of his mustache.

Looking at Amy, his eyes wide, Sheldon reached up and snatched the soiled napkin from her hand and threw it wide of them. "As much as I want to put considerable distance between us and this unhygienic evil plan, I think -"

"This is a job for Wonder Amy?" Amy interrupted, a new sparkle in her emerald eyes. Sheldon nodded. "Hurry," Amy continued, "you hide under the tablecloth and I'll go, well, you know." She raised her index finger and twirled it just as they both had earlier.

"Hide? I'm not hiding!" Sheldon yelled.

"Sheldon! There isn't enough time to argue!" Amy leaned in close. "And stop screaming like that. We may not know exactly what the evil plan is yet, but it clearly involves taking over the addiction centers of all these people's brains. Once Snidely realizes we're not infected . . ." She let the sentence fall.

"But you never let me help! Just this once, I promise, we'll fight as partners. How hard can it be? It's just maple syrup."

Amy shook her head. "No. I save the world alone, remember?"

"But I hate waiting and being useless."

"Go, Sheldon." She pointed to the long white buffet table just in case he was confused about her order, which he certainly wasn't. "Hide silently under there and apply all your massive brain power to figuring out how to deactivate the nanobytes while I take care of Snidely." She put her hand on his cheek. "You're not useless to me, Sheldon. You never have been. Stay out of trouble, and, whatever you do, don't move or make a sound until I tell you to. Go."

A scream ripped through the air and Sheldon looked over Amy's shoulder to see a woman in a red ball gown take a bite of another woman's French toast stick; except it wasn't a French Toast stick, it was her finger. "Okay. Right. Hide. And pretend I never saw that."

Sheldon took Amy's hand from his cheek and brushed his lips along her knuckles before he scrambled under the white tablecloth, pulling it around him and hugging his knees to his chest. He curled up tight, watching the puddle of maple syrup spread under the table at the opposite end of the buffet. He was too tall for the cramped space, and he had to lower his head deeply between his knees; only to fit, he told himself, not because he was going to pass out or anything.

He peered under the hem of the tablecloth, which didn't quite reach the floor, and he tried to concentrate on Amy's high heels, watching them clatter away into the display area. Next he saw a flash of light, and he heard the heavy and sure footfalls of Wonder Amy's red leather boots even before he saw them.

"Snidely Whiplash!" He heard her deep voice boom, and he could see her clearly in his mind's eye: her stance would be wide, her hands curled on her waist, her armor glinting from the overhead lighting, her blue skirt falling around her hips. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Ah! Wonder Amy! We meet at last!" Sheldon heard him clearly, flinching at how close his voice was. He must be right by the table. "Will your friends be joining you, or did they send a little girl to do a man's job? Don't worry, I'm sure they'll show up later to rescue you."

Sheldon gasped and then muffled his own voice by biting into his knee. _Oh, Snidely,_ he thought, _that was a very bad idea_. The red leather boots disappeared and instantly the table above him rumbled as Wonder Amy landed on it.

"No one rescues Wonder Amy!" Her voice bellowed, and the table shook around him, the cutlery and plates rattling. "What have you done to these people?"

"Nyahaahaaa!" Snidely laughed again. "Wouldn't you like to know? Even that famous metaphysicist, Dr. Cooper, couldn't figure it out." Sheldon's head popped up and hit the bottom of the table at the sound of his name. "He's at the bottom of that pile, with the rest of them, and soon he'll be under my control, too. Then we'll see if anyone is capable of saving you."

"Dr. Cooper?" He heard it in her voice, the tone of confidence wavering.

"Ah, yes! I forgot you know him, don't you? There was even a very famous kiss for all of the Internet to see a couple of years ago. Oh, and wasn't that who you danced with at the Wayne Enterprise's Superhero Gala?"

Sheldon groaned into his knees, and there was a stomp on the table directly above his head.

"Sheldon Cooper means nothing to me," Amy said. "And I danced with many people that night."

"Please don't lie," Snidely said. "It doesn't suit you. Unless that's what you tell yourself when you see him with that homely little wife of his."

"Hey!" Sheldon protested, the last of it muffled by another stomp on the table above his head.

"Hey!" Amy shouted over him. "I asked you a question. What is your plan, Snidely? Do you really think Dr. Cooper, at the bottom of that pile of humanity, won't determine exactly how your nanobytes work? I'm sure he's lying there silently, as we speak, already figuring it out."

Sheldon raised his eyebrows. Why was Amy playing along with the misguided charade that he was, in fact, infected and at the bottom of the pile, where no one could see him and - oh, yes. Silently working on the solution. Right. Amy was reminding him to be quiet and come up with answers.

He closed his eyes and thought to himself, _Think. Think. Think_.

"Nanobytes!" he heard Snidely say. "My, my, maybe you are more than just a pretty face and a fine bottom, after all."

Gritting his teeth at the thought that Snidely had ever so much as glanced at her bottom, Sheldon muttered, "Think, think."

The table shook again as Wonder Amy leapt off of it, and Sheldon ears heard the sound of a fist cracking into bone. At least, he assumed it was a fist after that comment. Bracing his hands over his ears, attempting to block out the sounds of the scuffle a few feet away, Sheldon instead tried to apply himself to the problem at hand. Ingestible nanobytes was his only theory, and he didn't have nearly enough data to even feel confident in that hypothesis. But it seemed as though Snidely had confirmed it. Or was he merely patronizing Amy, along with all his other misogynist slights?

He heard the crackle of her lasso and the shuffling of feet, the groans from both Snidely and Amy as they locked in battle. He tried to think, but his heart was pounding in his chest, fear rushing through his ears. This is exactly why he didn't need to know or see or hear what his wife did when she wasn't home. Waiting, he thought, was just as difficult as fighting. If only she'd let him help, then he could be fighting and not waiting.

And why hadn't Amy wrapped this thing up yet? Snidely was only a maple syrup tycoon and a Canadian! Shouldn't he be polite enough to surrender?

"Great Hera! You're one of them!" he heard Amy yell, and his head snapped up, hitting the underside of the table once more.

"What was that?" Snidely asked, and Sheldon sucked in his breath.

"It's your horrible minions, fighting each other!" Amy yelled. "You infected them and now they're fighting each other to the death."

It was true the groans and grumbling mass of people had been growing ever louder lately. Sheldon couldn't see them, but he could hear them clearly. Was Amy correct and they were fighting to death? The memory of the bitten finger popped up in his mind; wait! were they really attempting to eat each other like . . . like -

"Zombies!" he whispered yelled. The only certain way to kill a zombie was to sever its head. And Amy said Snidely was one of them, although how she knew that and how it manifested, he did not know. He had to find a way to get her attention, to find out what she meant by that so that he could determine exactly how -

Sheldon lifted the edge of the tablecloth and crawled out, unfolding and standing to take in the scene before him. And then he gasped.

Part of Snidely's face was ripped open revealing his bare white skull in a jagged line from the top of his head, across the bridge of his nose, and down to his cheek, just missing his mustache. The flap of skin hung from his jaw, but there was no blood visible. Almost as though it had never been real skin. Absurdly, his monocle still sat perched in his now exposed eye socket.

As ugly and as disturbing as that was, it was Amy's face that sent a shiver down Sheldon's spine. Her curled hair was tangled from the fight, and her visage was one of pure rage. Except it wasn't directed toward her enemy.

"Sheldon!" she yelled.

"Dr. Cooper!" Snidely boomed, stepping closer, even as the flap of loose skin jiggled grotesquely. "I thought you would be the last one standing, but I didn't plan on it being so soon."

"Then you don't know anything about me. There's no way I'd survive a zombie apocalypse." Sheldon stepped forward and sideways, trying to shield Amy behind him without appearing to actually do so. "I came to help Wonder Amy. We're a team."

Snidely rubbed his hands together in glee. "This is better than my wildest dreams! Maybe I was wrong, Wonder Amy, and you just might get your man after all. But only after I order him to do my biding, of course. Or -" his mustache quivered as his mouth formed a sneer "- maybe I'll use both of you. Dr. Cooper can be your carrot and I'll be the stick."

He raised his silver-handled walking stick and Sheldon ducked, only to hear the sound of a shattering pie plate and to smell quiche as it fell around him just before his world went black.

* * *

It was the sound of a train whistle in the distance that woke him, and Sheldon turned his head even before he opened his eyes. He had to tell Amy about this dream while he remembered it; although, she would probably just tell him to stop watching _The Walking Dead_ before bed. His eyelids fluttering, Sheldon attempted to roll over, grunted in confusion, and then tried it again. But doing so only made his head hurt worse than it did. Why did he have such a pounding headache? Why couldn't he move? And why was he so uncomfortable? And cold?

Looking down, he saw he wasn't in his bed next to Amy. He was tied, very tightly, to something metal that cut into his shoulder blades and the soft skin of his calves. He realized it was metal rails with wooden ties in between. As in railroad ties, he thought, just as he looked up into the light of an approaching train engine.

_To be continued . . ._

* * *

_**I hope you enjoy this short and silly little peek into the marriage that is Wonder Shamy. Thank you in advance for your reviews!** _


	2. Chapter 2

Fun fact: train whistles aren't actually any louder than the human voice. At least not when that human voice is screaming at the top of its lungs while being tied to the train track directly in the path of an oncoming train.

Sheldon screamed and wiggled and then screamed while wiggling, all to no avail. The ropes around him were so tight his efforts only made his skin burn from the chaffing, even though his clothing. He shrieked into the night even while simultaneously wondering exactly which train track he was on, which train was approaching, what its gross tonnage was, whether or not it was on schedule, and realizing he'd never seen the undercarriage of an engine before.

When the strong _WOOOSSHHHH_ of air came, Sheldon squeezed his eyes shut, expecting death to crush him at any second, but instead he heard, "Stop squirming! And you're screaming like a damsel in distress!"

Opening his eyes, he saw Wonder Amy bent over him, her eyebrows knitted together in concentration beneath her tiara as she studied the knots.

"Where have you been?" he demanded. "I'm tied to the tracks in front of an oncoming train!"

She glanced up. "Really? I hadn't noticed."

"How did I even get here? One minute was I fighting next to you, and the next -" He sucked in his breath. "Wait a minute! It was you. _You_ hit me over the head with a whole quiche!"

"I needed you to be silent and still," Amy explained, barely shrugging as she attempted to loosen another knot. "It seemed the simplest way to accomplish that."

"I would have been silent and still!" he protested, trying to wiggle his feet as the train whistle started again.

Amy's hand stopped moving and she looked at him with a tilted head. "That's odd. Because that's exactly what I told you do when I instructed you to hide under the tablecloth. And yet you came rolling out, spilling out all your secret plans to defeat our enemy -"

"Are you really going to argue with me about it at a time like this? When you should be untying those knots?" Sheldon asked.

" _You_ are arguing with _me,_ " Amy said. "And, no, I'm not going to untie these knots -"

"But! What-!"

"- I'm going to use my sword." She reached back and unsheathed her sword, the blade reflecting the light from the train's headlight and almost blinding him.

Sheldon screamed again, twisting his face away from the sharp blade as it came swinging toward his head and -

. . . And he was being lifted whole in her powerful arms as she slung him over her shoulder and stepped back three paces, the train screeching mere inches from them. Sheldon was sure the heel of his shoes caught the metal exterior as it passed. He hung there, upside down, looking at her star-spangled skirt where it curved over the amble form of her bottom. _His_ bottom; Snidely needed to keep his brain off of Sheldon's merchandise. His hand dangled and touched the top of her boots. Everything was spinning slightly, and the rush of hot air from the train added to his nausea.

Finally, the train passed, its whistle having gone quiet, and he slumped against Wonder Amy, holding him in the dark.

"Put me down, please," he called.

"If I do, will you follow my instructions?"

"If you don't, I might vomit into your boots."

Another wave of nausea swept him as the world righted around him, and his knees buckled beneath him as Amy sat him on his feet. She reached out to hold him upright. "Are you alright? Are you going to be sick?"

Sheldon shook his head as he took a deep breath of the cool night air. "I don't think so. It's passing." He looked around, surprised to find they were beyond the railyard and the train station, their lights visible in the distance. "What happened? After you assaulted your husband, I mean."

"I did it for your own good. The first rule of being a superhero is never reveal your plan," Amy said.

"I thought the first rule was never reveal your secret identity," Sheldon grumbled. "That one gave me weeks of heartburn."

Amy sighed and her voice softened. "I'm sorry, I really am. But I couldn't warn you, it would have ruined the ruse. And I _am_ a neurobiologist, remember. I hit you with just enough force in the correct location to render you temporarily unconscious but without causing any permanent damage."

Reaching up to rub where he imagined a knot from the injury to be but finding none, Sheldon asked, "But why?"

"I needed Snidely to think I didn't care about you. For your own protection. I thought it had worked, too. But then all the minions came after me and he got away." She frowned.

By the glow of a nearby security light, he noticed for the first time that she was smeared with dirt and, oddly, random smatterings of what seemed to be make-up. There was a jagged cut on her cheek, its line laced with red blood. "You're injured," he murmured and then reached up to touch it but stopped just shy of her skin. "What about the maple syrup?"

"I either didn't get any in it or I'm immune to it. It took much less time for the humans to start turning, and I'm not craving pancakes in the slightest. I may never want them again," she said with a curl of her lip. "The good news is that I've got them all tied up. My lasso will hold them. Nanobytes that attack one's brainstem, it seems, and that cause a destructive shift in personality and actions. But why? And, more importantly, what do we do about it?"

"I think they're all zombies," Sheldon suggested. "You said Snidely was one of them, and he looked undead to me, just a skeleton."

Amy tilted her head. "Maybe. They certainly act like it. And Snidely didn't have any of the blood or normal musculature under that skin of his, so I'm not sure he could have been alive. Or maybe you've been watching too much _Walking Dead_ before bed. Either way, it's our only working theory."

"We have to sever their heads or completely destroy their brains," Sheldon explained. "It's how you kill a zombie."

"No," Amy said forcefully, crossing her arms. "I can't. They're innocent bystanders who were tricked into ingesting something dangerous. There has to be another way."

Sheldon nodded and shuffled his feet in the dirt. Amy was both right and wrong. Correct that they were innocent, incorrect that there was another way. He hadn't been watching years of the Saturday night made-for-Syfy movies for nothing.

"Well, at least they're incapacitated and I'm sure the authorities are on their way," he offered. Meaning that at least Amy wouldn't have to make the final decision and do it herself. "You said Snidely escaped?"

"I don't think he could have gone far. I never heard a car or any other train until the one that . . ., well, you know. I hit you over the head, he ordered the - the zombies to attack, and, by the time I got them all tied up, he was gone and so were you. He must have come out here and tied you up and then -" Her eyes went wide. "You have to get out of here."

"I told you, we're partners. I'm staying to help you fight."

"No, you're not." She moved her hands back to her hips, her stance of power. "We've talked about this. You're going somewhere safe and staying out of danger."

"But you never let me come! You just twirl and wink and then you're gone. I'm a metahuman specialist now myself, you know."

Amy shook her head. "You study metahuman radiation, not metahuman combat tactics." She reached out and shook him by his shoulders. "You're the carrot, don't you see?" She stopped and looked around. "We have to get out of here, this was a trap. He wanted me here at this rail line for some reason."

Before he could reply, she picked him up in her arms, cradling him like a child, and took off running so fast everything blurred to Sheldon. He wrapped his arms around her neck, terrified of falling at such high speeds. Amy skidded to a halt back in from of the new museum space in the railyard, the same building they were in earlier, and the abrupt change in accelerative forces made his ears pop.

"You need to go in there and hide," she said, putting him down again. In the distance, he heard the soft sound of another approaching train.

"But you said the zombies are in there!"

"They're tied up in my lasso and you know it will hold. I want you to hide, stay quiet, and I'll come get you when it's safe. I need you to actually do what I tell you this time."

Sheldon grunted; of course her lasso would hold, it was indestructible. "But I want to help you," he protested weakly.

Amy reached out and took his hand, "Please, Sheldon. I couldn't bear to lose you. You help me by being there when the battle is over; knowing that gives me the strength to fight."

Her eyes were pleading with him with a force even greater than her voice. He saw it reflected back at him, the pain and the fear she carried with her every day, even though she succeeded in hiding it, the absolute terror that either he or their son would be caught up in her battles against evil. Wonder Amy had armor and physical strength and iron willpower, but, deep inside, it was the thought of losing their love that made her vulnerable. It was one thing for them to know it and thus work harder to protect their special bond, but it was another for Amy's enemy-du-jour to discover her one true weakness.

Sheldon bent down and kissed her forehead, right on the stone in the center of her tiara, and his lips buzzed with its other-worldly power. "Very well. For you. For us."

The train was getting louder now, and Sheldon ears picked up on the tell-tale clicking-clack of the restored locomotive being used as a shuttle from the primary museum building, even without turning around to look.

Amy nodded and let his hand go. He turned away from her and walked back into the museum, wincing when he heard the rumblings of the zombies. It sounded like they were all grumbling quietly to themselves, and he tried not to think about the bleeding finger earlier, although he had no success. Fortunately, just inside the door was the gift shop and he ducked in to avoid seeing them tied up by the buffet. He had no doubt that Amy's lasso would hold. Not only was it indestructible, but it was also impossible to escape from without her assistance. And it was always magically the perfect length for whatever job was at hand; it seemed to grow under its own mystical power in a way that Sheldon had not yet been able to untangle. Or maybe that was just because every time he found himself powerless to its strength, all of the blood in his body had rushed somewhere other than his brain.

Feeling useless, he tried to distract himself by looking at all the train-related goods for sale. Surely a highly detailed, historically authentic O-gauge caboose would be enough to take his mind off Amy and whatever she was doing out there. The sound of the locomotive train reached a pitch as he heard the air brakes hissing in front of the museum annex. He put the model caboose back on the shelf. Why was the museum shuttle still running? Although he'd lost all track of time, there was no reason for it to run this late at night, well after the museum was officially closed and all the guests were ensconced inside the annex for the ticketed preview.

Even these thoughts, though, were punctuated by the growing rumble from the lobby space. The nanobyte-infested mass was getting restless, it seemed. Why now? Sheldon tiptoed back to the lobby, staying close to the front doors, and peeked around the corner. Everyone was tied up together, Amy's golden lasso glowing back at him. There were even what appeared to be waiters and other members of the catering staff roped up with those in tuxedos and gowns. Strewn on the floor between him and the captives were the forgotten accoutrements of modern life: abandoned cell phones, dropped purses, one even spilled open, its contents forming a line that almost reached Sheldon's shoes. Curious, he reached down and picked up the item closest to him, raising an eyebrow when he saw it was a whole bottle of Tums.

One of the men looked right at him and growled, and Sheldon shrank back around the corner, covering his ears as the gnarling grew. He could imagine them all struggling against the lasso, thinking of him, desperate to attack him, although to infect him or eat him, he did not know.

It was as though something had awakened them. Was there something that had activated the nanobytes that Amy thought were attaching themselves to their brainstems? And all at the same time, as though they were part of a collective mind? They had been mostly peacefully ignoring him and each other until they had seemed to become aware of his presence suddenly and now they were all growling en masse. _Just like the Borg_ , Sheldon thought. The crew of the Enterprise could board the Borg cube without attracting attention until the Queen -

Sheldon lowered his hands as he lifted his head. They weren't just zombies infected with a virus. They were being transformed by the nanobytes into a collective, just like the Borg. They had become restless because their queen - or a king, in this case - was calling them to action. Only Wonder Amy's lasso was stopping them.

Snidely was close.

The locomotive started chugging again in front of the museum, but, even over the sound of the wheels, he heard Amy's voice call loud and clear, "So we meet again, Snidely. What are you going to do without your army of henchmen to assist you this time?"

Sheldon ran to the glass to peer outside, trying to hide in the shadows. Amy stood tall and proud on top of the locomotive, right over the firebox, and steam poured around her as the train gained speed on the track. Her curls and her skirt billowed behind her in the wind, even as the lights from building caught the sheen of her armor, making it glow warmly. One arm held her shield tightly, and the other raised her sword high above her, her muscles flexing in the night.

It was one of the most majestic and powerful things Sheldon had ever seen.

But then, breaking the beauty of the moment, he saw Snidely walking toward her, steady even as the train gained momentum, stepping with ease over the pile of coal in the tender. His heart thumped at the thought of Amy fighting Snidely alone, trying to keep her balance on top of a moving train. She needed to destroy him. Soon. Snidely was the king bee, and, once he was gone, Sheldon felt certain the nanobytes would deactivate and the innocent humans would return to their full mental capacity. Did she know that? Amy was always reluctant to kill, and with good reason, but would she make an exception for Snidely, who didn't even seem truly alive?

And how would she do it? Even if she knew what was necessary, Sheldon couldn't imagine her raising her sword and decapitating him. The sword was sharp and deadly, yes, but Amy believed in only using it as a last resort. She preferred non-violent methods, and she was always preaching that love and mercy could triumph over any evil. The few times she had used her sword to kill, to take a life at such close range, with her own hand, haunted her.

There had to be another way, something so destructive that Snidely couldn't survive, but distant enough that it wouldn't keep her awake at night. Like a bomb. But where and how would she get a bomb while doing battle on the top of a train? Chemicals, they needed chemicals. Sheldon looked down at the bottle of Tums he was still holding. Tums were a chemical; granted, not an explosive one, but calcium carbonate was used to stabilize bombs. And there had to be other chemicals around. In fact, from where he was standing he could see a door labeled **Janitorial**.

As a child, the one television program all the male members of his household agreed upon was _MacGyver_. His father and Georgie watched it for the explosions; Sheldon watched it because MacGyver was a physicist and, it could be argued, a genius with found supplies.

If Wonder Amy needed a bomb, then Sheldon would make her one.

Taking a deep breath, he ran into the lobby, refusing to look at the growling mass of zombies (or Borg? or worker bees? it was so confusing now) and he ran past the screen behind the buffet and found a swinging door that led into a gleaming kitchen space. Perfect. Opening the refrigerator, he looked through the foodstuffs but didn't find much of use. He frowned. But, turning, he saw something on a table that was exactly what he wanted: some kind of refillable canister for whipped cream. He tested it, the foamy product squeezing onto the table top, and was quite pleased with how much pressure it created. He could use that to his advantage.

Sheldon set the bottle of Tums next to the canister and went to the janitor's closet, only to let out a gravelly groan of frustration when he discovered it was locked.

Thinking quickly, he raced back to the exhibits, past the pile of fake coal Amy had apparently transformed behind, smiling to himself at the sight of her floral dress on the floor. He needed to remember to get all her clothes for her. Later. First, he needed to find what his eidetic memory recalled seeing earlier.

There, behind a metal railing, was a rusted pickaxe last used to open the path for the earliest trains to cross the Sierra Nevadas. Heaving a leg over the railing, Sheldon stepped into the display and lifted it off its hooks. The klaxon of an alarm sounded, and Sheldon dropped the axe to cover his ears. A second passed, and he gritted his teeth against the sound as he picked it up again.

Running back to the closet, Sheldon yelled as he heaved the pickaxe over his head to break open the lock. When the door swung open, he stepped inside and grinned in triumph. Between the cleaning supplies and a large first aid kit, he had plenty to work with. He loaded his arms with everything he thought he'd need and returned to the kitchen to sort through his options and come up with a plan.

Just as he hoped, Sheldon had what he needed to made a pressurized bomb. Everything except a fuse. Thinking of Amy's discarded date night dress, he frowned. Polyester was highly flammable; but Amy would be displeased. Deciding to risk her wrath, he raced back to grab it anyway, ripping a section off the bottom.

Back in the kitchen, he took several deep breathes to still his hands as he worked, carefully and precisely mixing the harshest chemicals, adding the Tums he crushed under a mixing bowl to help stabilize it, gently filling the emptied and cleaned whip cream dispenser, and making sure the nitrous oxide cartridges were full. The thin braid he formed from Amy's dress he left hanging from the tightly sealed lid. He set the homemade bomb on the table while he went to search through the debris littering the floor from the unfortunate souls who were tied up. They snarled and hissed, and a few were able to get an arm out to reach toward him, but he stayed just beyond them, opening every purse until he found a cigarette lighter and tested it to confirm it functioned. He dropped it into his pocket, retreating back to the kitchen to pick up the bomb, which looked like an overlarge stick of dynamite.

Cradling it gently in his hands, he walked slowly out of the museum annex toward the train tracks directly in front. After the painfully loud sound of the alarm inside, the night seemed eerily silent around him. But as his ears adjusted he heard the locomotive again. It was moving away from him, and he realized it must have been traveling round and round on its shuttle path, and he just hadn't heard it approach the railyard again over the sound of the alarm inside. He could wait for it to come back, but he didn't want Amy to have to fight that long without assistance. Assuming she still was fighting.

Sheldon shook the thought away. Of course Amy was still fighting. She wouldn't stop until she had Snidely incapacitated. But he needed to get to her to help her. He looked down at the pseudo-dynamite. It wasn't very stable, and he knew it. In theory, it could blow at any moment. Running toward her was too dangerous; the jostling movement of his body could set off the bomb.

Turning slowly in a circle, Sheldon looked around for inspiration and then his eyes settled on the handcar parked on a railroad spur. And that spur connected to the track that traveled parallel to the one the shuttle train was on. Moving carefully, he set the bomb on the handcar and left it to work the lever to open the track for it before climbing on the handcar himself. He settled the stick of pseudo-dynamite between his feet, trying to hold it as still as possible as he lifted the walking beam and then lowered it to move the handcar forward.

In old movies, it had always looked fun to operate a handcar. But Sheldon quickly found it was much harder than it looked. Perhaps because he was alone and had to both push down and pull up on the reciprocating walking beam as it see-sawed on the base, moving the car forward. But he kept it up, grinning when the handcar easily passed onto the track he desired. The momentum built, and, as long as he didn't stop, the hand car moved faster and faster down the track; not as fast as a train, of course, but certainly faster than he could have run. Most importantly, the ride was smooth.

He let out a holler of excitement and relief as the locomotive rounded the bend from the main museum building in front of him. And there, grappling on top of the engine, were Wonder Amy and Snidely. Amy pushed against Snidely with her shield and he flew backward from her power, landing on top of the coal in the tender.

"Amy!" Sheldon called at the top of his lungs, and she turned to look at him as his handcar pulled closer to the engine. "I brought dynamite! Well, not really, because there's no nitroglycerin, but it's a bomb that resembles a stick of dynamite and -"

"Now is not the time, Sheldon!" she yelled back.

It could have been his interruption of her battle, against her express wishes, but he chose to believe that his wife meant she would eagerly listen to the specifics of his homemade bomb at a later time.

"I'll throw it up and you jump down!" he replied.

Sheldon reached down to grab the cylinder of explosive with one hand and he pulled out and lit the lighter with the other. Only shaking slightly, he touched the flame to the fuse, and then he tossed the whole thing up in the air, holding his breath as it arched through the night toward Wonder Amy on the train engine. She ran forward toward the smoke box on the very front, her eyes watching the flame as it sizzled down the fuse. Her hand stretched out to grab it -

"Don't!" Sheldon yelled. "It's highly unstable!"

Instantly, as she leapt into the air herself, she batted at the dynamite with her shield and it changed trajectory, hurtling backwards with increased speed, charging directly toward the tender.

Snidely, now standing on the coal, opened his mouth in a perfect scream, his handlebar mustache curling above his surprise. Amy landed in crouch on the handcar, the force of her fall shaking it around Sheldon, and he had to grab the walking beam to maintain his balance.

But then nothing else happened.

The bomb didn't explode.

"What happened?" Sheldon asked. "It should have worked!"

Amy turned with him and they watched in horror as Snidely reached down and picked up the dynamite and held it above his head. The locomotive sped past them now that the handcar was slowing under its own inertia. Sheldon turned his head in horror, seeing that more of Snidely's skin was gone from his fight with Amy, and his fingers were nothing more than the bones that make up the phalanges.

"You can't foil me, Dr. Cooper! Nyahaahaaa! Nyahaahaaa!" Snidely laughed, throwing his head back in delight.

"The fuse is still burning!" Sheldon and Amy said in unison, and Sheldon turned back toward Amy and added, "We've got to go!"

Nodding, she dropped her shield with a clatter and reached up for her side of the walking arm and pressed down. Sheldon responded in kind, and the handcar started to move again, this time moving in the opposite direction of the train.

"Let go!" Amy yelled. "I can move it faster on my own if I don't have to worry about ripping your shoulders out of their sockets!"

Sheldon released his end, grabbing the thin metal rail behind him, and Amy sped up, her strong arms pushing and pulling on the lever until Sheldon only saw their surroundings as a blur. Then Sheldon heard a boom behind him and the next thing he knew he was flying through the air, landing on his back with a force that flattened his lungs. There was a second, louder explosion in the distance, and he thought, with a clarity he wouldn't have expected at such a moment, _Oh, that must have been all the coal in the tender exploding, too._

He opened his eyes to find Amy's above him, her body wrapped tightly and protectively around him, her palms behind his head, having kept it from hitting the sidewalk beneath them. It wasn't the force of the explosion that had thrown him, after all, it was Amy, shoving him and covering him, saving him.

"The handcar?" he said with more of a cough than words.

"Destroyed," Amy answered. She turned her head to look beyond him. "So's the locomotive."

Sheldon noticed something sticking out of her strong bicep. It was a piece of wooden shrapnel from the handcar. "You saved me."

"It's a good thing," she answered, looking back down at him. "What part of stay hidden and silent and I'll come get you did you not understand . . . again?"

"You had to kill Snidely," Sheldon explained. "He was the head of the zombie collective. Except I'm not sure they're zombies after all. I think they're more like Borg, and he's the Borg queen. I know you, and I know that just incapacitating him wouldn't have worked."

"Don't let the fact that you were right this time go to your head," she said.

" _This_ time?"

Amy smiled down at him, a look on the border of her soft, sincere smile and one her mischievous smirks. "So now I suppose you think we should be a crime-fighting team after all?"

Sheldon looked deeply into his wife's green eyes. Her glasses were smudged with soot or something else. Blood was dripping from the shrapnel in her arm, and there were other lacerations on her skin. It wasn't surprising. His own body ached everywhere, his eyes burned from the smoke, his ears rang both from the explosion and the sirens he heard approaching, his palms were riddled with blisters, and he could smell his own sweat-drenched clothes.

"Actually, I think I'm okay staying in the lab. I could be your Alfred."

"Oh, could you?" Amy asked, lowering her body slightly over his.

"Uh-huh," Sheldon nodded as he felt the blood start to drain away from his brain. "Or, you know, in bed. We could stay there together, hiding under the covers."

"Yes," Amy cooed, leaning close to whisper in his ear, "but I don't plan on being silent." Sheldon groaned as she nibbled on his ear lobe, one certain part of his body aching more than all the others as she rolled above it. She still had him pinned to the ground and he couldn't move. He was, as he always was, at her mercy.

"Amy, one thing before we, um, discuss that further," he managed to pant out. "It's important."

"What?" She pulled back and looked down at him.

"You're not homely. Ever. Wonder Amy has nothing on date night Dr. Fowler."

The sirens were very close now, but Sheldon didn't hear them as Amy's face softened above him and she leaned down for a kiss.

Even with his eyelids closed, his world was filled with spinning blue and red lights of the police cars and the fire trucks and the ambulance that pulled around them. Amy's lips left his and he opened his eyes to find her face still very close, studying his. "You'll always be my partner."

"Dances and date nights," Sheldon whispered back. "Dinners and diapers."

Amy's hand slide from behind his head and reached down to thread her fingers through his. Her eyes, though, never left Sheldon's. It was the same emotion they had shared almost from the very first, the intermittent moments when the world around them didn't matter and they were alone in their love.

"Wonder Amy has to go and deal with this," she said. "I'll catch up with you later."

"I know."

She lifted herself off of him, and dizzy from her kiss and the night's events, Sheldon sat up slowly, testing each joint before he moved it. Amy walked away from him toward the cluster of police officers. Then, at the last second, she paused and put her hand on her hip, twisting to look over her shoulder.

"Oh, and Sheldon, don't forget my cardigan." Amy smiled at him, and then one set of her dark eyelashes descended. "Partner."

THE END

* * *

 _**Thank you for going on this admittedly ridiculous little journey with me and Wonder Shamy. I wanted to write something lighthearted to get our couple back to their comic book roots after all the angst of** _ **The Wonder Amy Paradox** _**, and I wanted to make my faithful readers, who are so kind and generous about this storyline, chuckle. Hopefully, you also found a nugget of insight and a measure of love here, too.** _

_**Thank you to my wonderful beta for her work. Thank you to those who brighten my day with your comments and your own posts on Instagram [my handle there: aprilinparisfanfic].** _

_**And, above all, thank you in advance for your reviews!** _


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